Total pages in book: 33
Estimated words: 30892 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 154(@200wpm)___ 124(@250wpm)___ 103(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 30892 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 154(@200wpm)___ 124(@250wpm)___ 103(@300wpm)
I send her a look that indicates exactly what I want to do with the time we have to wait. It involves both of us wearing a lot less clothes. I’ve been sneaking kisses all day, but it’s not enough. It’ll never be enough with Sadie. I’ll always want her, crave her cute little body beneath mine.
Finally, I grumble, “Now, we make the frosting.”
She laughs. “Don’t give me that look. We have work to do.”
I go to the back and grab the extra-large bag of confectioner’s sugar, muttering under my breath that there’s more to life than work. Right now, my priorities are fucking a baby into my girl and making her my wife. Everything else can wait.
“Did the framing hold up after the rain yesterday?” She asks when I return with the ingredients she’ll need for the latest batch of frosting. The work to keep this bakery running is extensive. I had no idea all of the effort that goes into keeping an eatery going each day.
“It held fine,” I reassure her. My brothers kept on working even through the rain. Greer and Noah busted my balls about leaving early, but I know they’re happy for me. They’ve both found the love of their lives. The only one in my family who hasn’t met Sadie yet is Zac. I’m driving up to see him in a couple of days. I can’t wait to introduce the two of them to each other.
She smiles. “Your family is wonderful.”
They are awesome, but what I want to talk about today is my girl. I watch as she patiently starts counting the cups of sugar for the icing. No wonder my mama loves these donuts so much. She must have a sweet tooth that matches Sadie’s. “Why donuts?”
She pauses in the middle of her count. It’s slight, but it’s there. Then she goes back to working on the recipe. She’s been quiet for so long that I don’t think she’s going to answer the question.
Finally, she says, “I stayed with a foster family who bought donuts together every week. They’d bundle us up on Saturday morning, and we’d all walk down to the pastry store. We could pick whichever donut we wanted. Me included, even though I wasn’t one of their biological kids.”
She stops there, a soft smile lighting up her face. “It was a home where I felt safe and warm. I wish I could have stayed, but I was sent back to my mom eventually.”
I put my hand on her shoulder and give it a soft squeeze. I’d go back in time and rescue that little girl if I could. I’d rescue both of us from the children we were, children who were neglected and abused, unwanted by the ones who were supposed to love us most.
She shakes her head. “I don’t want to think about the past. What about you? What’s one thing that makes you happy? Do you have anything like that?”
It’s my turn to pause. “I used to but not anymore.”
She doesn’t ask any questions. She nudges a few measuring cups toward me, and I add the ingredients in the order she instructs. When the glaze is nearly done, I finally explain, “I didn’t adjust well when I came to the live with the Maples. I was a skittish kid who startled at the slightest thing and ran away from everyone. But I did love cars. I had a collection of them that I traded other kids for. My adoptive father caught onto the fact.”
I stop and swallow. I can still remember the way the autumn breeze felt against my face the day he took me to the junkyard. “One day, he tells me to get into his car. He brings me to an old junkyard and explains I can have any vehicle I want. He says the two of us are going to get it running.”
She wraps an arm around my waist, snuggling next to me. Her presence always calms me, keeps me grounded in the moment. “We spent hours together after that getting the old truck restored with all original parts. But it wasn’t about the truck. With every hour spent together in that old workshop, I was learning to trust him. To trust that people could be good to me.”
Love is good to you. It took me years to learn that one, but my foster father was patient. He showed me that love is kind in our fear. Love is tender in our bruised places and most of all, love is gentle with our brokenness.
“He was an amazing man,” Sadie says softly.
“I still drive that truck we fixed up together. We were in the middle of another project when he passed, and I can’t bring myself to finish it.”
“He would be proud of the man you are today.”